


Boys or Girls?

by Sappy3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Light-Hearted, Not Epilogue Compliant, OT3, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sappy3/pseuds/Sappy3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is happily in a relationship with Ron Weasley. Or is she truly? His sister Ginny and their friend Luna thinks she should be with them. What will Hermione choose? A journey of steamy self exploration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hermione meets her two good friends Ginny and Luna for some girl-talk

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [WondrousTidings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondrousTidings/pseuds/WondrousTidings) in the [HPprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HPprompts) collection. 



> This is my first attempt at a F/F(/F) fic. Hope I get it right. There is also some M/F het with Ron.

"Ron is such a, a boy!” Hermione exclaimed to her two younger friends. Ginny made a sympathetic ‘hmmm’ sound, Luna just stared curiously at her, with her luminous eyes. “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s Ron we’re talking about. I just hoped, now that we’re all adults he’d, stop…” Hermione searched for the right word.

"Stop being Ron?” Ginny finished for her.

Hermione threw a pretzel at her. “That’s not funny, Ginny!”

"I’m sorry, Hermione. Ron is my littlest big brother. I can’t take him seriously. I’m surprised you’ve been together this long, honestly.”

"Ron can be good when he puts his mind to it.”

"Which is almost never,” Ginny countered.

"And he’s lots of fun.”

"When he doesn’t drive you out of your mind,” Luna commented, munching a pretzel thoughtfully.

"How big a chunk of your time with my brother is ‘fun times’?” Ginny questioned her.

"Don’t you want me to be part of the family?” Hermione whined to Ginny. “Ron was the boy for me since forever.”

Ginny made an angry sound. “You’ll always be that to me, no matter what you and Ron have. Haven’t you realized that?”

"You should tell Yester-Hermione she can stay with her Ron and leave you alone.” Luna suggested, her stare fixed over Hermione’s shoulder.

Hermione looked from one girl to the other. “I can’t just throw away what I have. Ron’s not perfect but he’s loads better than a lot of guys.” Hermione added thinking of McLaggen, the last non-Ron boy she’d been with. “I don’t want to be alone.” Was she whinging? She hoped she wasn’t whinging.

 

Luna tilted her head. “Ginny, Hermione’s got wrackspurts[1] messing her head.” She smiled encouragingly at Hermione “You’re not alone. We have you. You’ll see. We’ll make you forget all about Ron.”

Ginny made a shushing motion at Luna. “Not yet, Luna! Hermione’s needs to… deal with her wrackspurt problem first.”

Luna pouted. “If you say so. Hang in there, Hermione. It’s all right. We can wait if you need to.

Hermione glanced uncertainly at the two. “What’s going on?”

"Nothing’s going on,” Ginny hurried to say. “We were talking about the selfish, pigheaded Ron.”

"He’s not so bad. Honest! I should be the bigger person. I should apologize for getting mad at him and get it over with.”

"You should do nothing of the kind,” exclaimed Ginny. “Quidditch is great but he was a shitty prick to ignore you like that and sign up as the Chudley Canons’ caddie boy for a whole season. If the love of his life is the Chudley Canons, not you, he can have it. You told him it was over if he signed with them. Don’t back down now.”

"I can stay at home and apparate to him on the weekends. And during the games. I’ll need to attend all their games. It won’t be so bad.” Hermione added lamely.

Luna shook her head sadly. “Wrackspurts.”

"Oh, Hermione. Don’t do this to yourself.”

"It’s easy for you to say. You’ve got Harry. Good old considerate Harry. And you have that Scamandar fellow, Luna. Bet he’s nice.”

Luna and Ginny exchanged a look.

"Weeeell,” Ginny began.

"Rolf is all right. But I’m with Ginny now. You could be with Ginny now too. And with me. You’ll like it.” Luna told her matter-of-factly. 

Hermione gaped at the two.

"Yes, Hermione,” Ginny rushed in after a moment. “Luna and I are seeing each other for a while now. We wanted to tell you before, but it never seemed like the right moment.”

"I don’t know what to think,” Hermione finally said. “So you’re, lesbian?” 

Ginny and Luna exchanged a look and gave her encouraging smiles. Inviting smiles. Hermione gasped. She gave Ginny an accusatory look. “You’re trying to get into my pants. That’s why you’re so dismissive of Ron! You’re not here to help me at all. And what about Harry? You were in love with him since kindergarten.”

“I suppose it wasn’t as exciting once I actually had him,” Ginny muttered. “Everything I said about Ron is the honest truth, Hermione. You deserve better.”

"I like boys,” Hermione told the two staunchly. “I like Ron,” she went on, less staunchly.

Ginny sighed. “Are you sure? Hermione. Luna noticed, our last year at Hogwarts. There were so many indications you were leaning this way. Maybe we’re wrong. But what if we’re not? Just remember, we’d really like to have you. You have a place with us. We’re serious.”

Luna nodded her affirmation.

"Ron and I are great. I won’t let a little tiff break us. I’m going to meet him and make up with him, right now. And I’ll enjoy it so much because that’s how we roll, Ron and I.” Hermione declared trying to stress her Het-ness. She jumped to her feet and half sprinted out the door, not looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A Wrackspurt is an invisible creature which floats into a person's ears, making his/her brain go fuzzy. Supposedly, Wrackspurts can be seen with aid of Spectrespecs. Those suffering from Wrackspurt infections can possibly dispell them by thinking positive thoughts. In 1998, The Quibbler reported that some Wrackspurts broke out of the Ministry Elfin' Safety Enquiry. 
> 
> Xenophilius Lovegood's attempt to recreate Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem included wrackspurt siphons, "to remove all sources of distraction from the thinker's immediate area."
> 
> \- from Harry Potter Wiki site


	2. Good Old Ron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month has passed. Hermione visits Ron's tent.

Hermione lay alone in bed. She left Ron’s tent this morning. He’d been in a good, giving mood. The Chudley Cannons won their latest game. It was against a third-rate team she never even heard of, but Ron was ecstatic. He’d hugged her exuberantly, lifting her a bit and twirled them around, telling her of the victory. When she laughingly told him to put her down, he grinned and carried her to his bed. They both struggled, hurriedly out of their clothes and he kissed her all over. Particularly down there. She got caught in his exuberance. She actually gushed over his face. She gripped him by the hairs to keep him down there as the waves of pleasure rolled over her. He got his revenge soon after. He slithered up her body and, with a big, shit-eating grin, forced her to swallow her own juices with a hard smooch. He held her tight until he was certain she got a good taste. The prick rammed his big cock into her dripping twat then and she let go her annoyance to concentrate on pleasure instead. Neither of them lasted long, though Ron lasted long enough. She needled her boyfriend into another round after they cooled down for a bit. They took a more leisurely pace their second time. They lay on their sides, facing each other, and let their fingers roam over their partner. She liked feeling his strong wiry chest and Ron loved playing with her breasts. He snuggled closer and licked her breasts. His bristles scratched them raw, he’d neglected to shave again, but she was too caught in the moment to mind. Her breasts stiffened and reddened under his ministrations and when Ron grinned up at her from between her breasts, she clenched her thighs tight to keep herself together. He knew her too well. His cock was still at half-mast though, so she stroked it back up with her deft hand. When he was ready, she sat on him and, gripping his chest with both hands, rode him with abandon. Ron’s hands latched to her breasts. He rubbed her nipples with his thumbs. She took him in all the way to the hilt. She pounded her clit against him, fast and steady, sure and hard. Hermione threw her head back, letting the sensations fill her. She loved this position.

"Hermione, I think, I, I’m gonna,” he stuttered breathily at one point, clutching her breasts in a vise-like grip.

"Don’t you dare!” Hermione hissed back at him, not slowing down one whit. She leaned down and gave him a good glare in the semi-darkness. “I’ll box your ears if you do,” she added. Ron gulped and held on. He was dependable that way. Hermione kept her eyes on her man’s face. Each time she sheathed him he gasped convulsively, open-mouthed. His green eyes would widen each time for a tic. His nostrils would flare. The sheen of sweat over his wide brow mesmerized her. She let out a moan of pleasure. Ron shuddered beneath her. His hips rose forcefully to meet her with each thrust. “Hermione,” he uttered from his very depths. Hermione clenched around him. She lost control of her thighs and arms and collapsed on top of him. With a final moan, Ron spurted inside her. Hermione gently stroked his cheeks with trembling fingers. “Oh, Hermione,” Ron whispered. They both soon drifted, spent and contented, into exhausted sleep.

It was a good night, Hermione thought. She had a great time. She managed to sneak out and apparate back home before Ron woke up. She didn’t want to end such a perfect steamy getaway on a sour note, which Ron’s usual griping over her uninspired cooking was sure to do.

Anyone who witnessed her night with Ron wouldn’t doubt her Het leaning. She just had two mind-shattering orgasms with her boyfriend. So what if she dreamed a couple of wet dreams lately where Ron turned into Ginny in the middle of the act. That was just Ginny messing with her with her stupid claims. The weird dreams where Luna appeared before her at work or as she walked through the busy streets of London, kissed her softly on the mouth and somehow made all her clothing disappear were just nonsensical, embarrassing dreams. There was nothing unique about them. She shouldn’t dwell on such foolish nonsense. Her time with Ron proved that. 

She needed to forget her meeting with Ginny and Luna and their sly, implausible implications already. It’s been over a month. She and Ron were good. She hadn’t seen either of them since then. Yet, for some reason, their words still played in her mind. Why would anyone think she was a lesbian? And why did it matter so much to her what they thought? She knew she wasn’t. She just proved it last night.

Hermione went to her bathroom and brushed her teeth vigorously. She spat the toothpaste and stared long and hard at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “Stop doubting yourself,” she ordered her reflection.

"You need to fix your hair,” he reflection tsked back. “It’s a mess.”

Hermione ignored it for the nonce. “You love Ron,” she lectured her reflection. “Stop second-guessing yourself and be happy with what you’ve got. All this foolishness over one of ‘Loony’ Luna’s phantasms. What’s gotten into you?”

"Are you paying attention to what I said?” her reflection demanded, incensed. “I told you to fix your hair. And have a shower!”

"Oh, shut up!” Hermione snapped back. Her reflection leaned forward and pointed with a trembling finger at its mussy hair. Hermione stared back hatefully at her reflection but, after a moment, snatched the shampoo bottle and soap cake from the shelf and went to her shower.

Hermione caressed herself. She had her good features. She had fine, ample breasts. Ron thought so. Ginny as well, probably. She rubbed her ass on the back wall. Mclaggen said she had ‘a sassy ass.’ And that fellow from work, Dennis, Denrick, whatever. She caught him staring at it when she passed his desk a few times, no matter how much he denied it. Hermione shut her eyes and let the warm water stream over her soapy body. Her tits hardened beneath her encouraging hands. They still felt a little sensitive from last night. She stroked them gently. “Ron,” she whispered. Ron’s nude body wouldn’t coalesce for her. His face softened and smoothed, his manhood slacked down and grew shorter and shorter until it was swallowed whole into its ginger bush. His thighs broadened and his little nipples budded and grew into proud, womanly breasts. It was Ron no more but Ginny instead. Ginny stepped closer and closer until they were chest to chest. She gave Hermione the same inviting grin she showed her during that meeting. She didn’t say anything. She breathed, with parted lips and with each inhalation their tits rubbed and stroked one another. There were no bristles. No bony fingers. No dribbling mucus. Only soft flesh, smooth skin. Hermione pinched her throbbing breast hard enough to leave marks. What was wrong with her? She was deranged. That’s all there was to it. 

Hermione sat on her bed and brushed her hair moodily, determinedly. Ron’s picture stared at her reprovingly from the nightstand. It wasn’t an animated image. She didn’t want one of those ogling her in her bedroom. Still, its stare disturbed her. She turned it face-down, then hid it in the drawer. After a moment, she laid her brush aside and took Ron’s picture out again. She held it before her and stared at it with single-minded determination which would have made an animated version of the image vacate his frame in less than two moments. She will reaffirm her feelings for her boyfriend. If she could lock her passions on his image, all the weirdness would go away. It was easy.


	3. Visit your 'just-friend'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to visit her friend Luna to get some things straight and ends up with more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned up a bit longer than expected. Hope you like it.
> 
> Since we visit Luna, expect some odd creatures to be mentioned in passing in this chapter. If you've got to know their meaning and can't figure them out for yourselves, you can look at the notes at the end of the chapter.

Hermione studied the colorful, round door. Today, it was painted to depict a field of bright-yellow daises dotted here and there with red poppies, gently swaying in a wind. A plethora of dragonflies, butterflies and floating spinning-tops of all kinds buzzed, fluttered and twirled over the flowers. Was there a pattern to the winking of the butterfly wings? It almost seemed there was. It teased her, but she just couldn’t seem to pin it down. Whatever it was, the message stubbornly eluded her analytic mind. She shook her head. She’d been examining it for some time now. She was, in point of fact, Hermione admitted to herself, dawdling. She inhaled a long, filling breath. Held it. No more dawdling, Hermione, she told herself sternly. You’re not here for art appreciation. There are important matters to air! Squaring her shoulders, Hermione lifted the snorkack knocker, ignoring its ignoble squawks and knocked.

A minute later the door drew open slowly. All the painted insects took flight in a rainbow of colors and resettled on the surrounding wall. Luna’s face peeked from behind the door. Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, it’s you.”

"Hello,” Hermione returned. Good. She wasn’t mad. “You’re not busy I hope, Luna? Sorry I haven’t been in a while.” She looked away. “After last time… well, you know. Can I come in? We need to talk.”

"Of course. Nobody’s here. Just me, and my gamboling dabberblimps.[1] You’re perfectly free to come in. I’ve had my fill of them for now.” Luna opened the door for her. She wore a simple pale blue sundress that didn’t quite reach her knees. In its sweetheart neckline, nestled, all Lunalike, a dirigible plum necklace. It was made from an actual dirigible plum: bright orange and bulbous, hanging on a green string, with a glistening carving of three feminine hands clasped together. Its trailing root-tip was tucked, naughtily, into her dress betwixt her small, perky breasts. Lucky root. Did it pendulum gently between them as she moved or was it smooched tightly inside her bra? It’s rough texture would elicit- No. What was she thinking?! Hermione dragged her eyes away from the lambent radish-fruit. Fool. Just ignore the radish, she lectured herself. You don’t want to give Luna any ideas, Hermione Granger! That was the last thing she needed, right? She lifted her gaze. Luna’s natural blond, wavy hair was gathered by a brown and red scrunchie into a ponytail. Her face was clear of makeup save for a yellow paint smudge on her right cheek. From her ears dangled two garden-snail shells. Was she going with an earthy theme now? Luna’s garbs were always an adventure, she mused. Sometime funny, often bizarre and inappropriate, but at times, illuminating. Luna wasn’t just a kook as she once, so long ago, believed. She was an artist. Hermione’s favorite kooky artist. And apparently busy at her craft today. Matching paint smudges covered her pale hands. To complete the ensemble, Luna’s clever feet were clad in a pair of toe-ring sandals beaded white and blue with, Hermeslike, little wings protruding from their heels. Hermione gave the ensemble the once over and decided she did like Luna’s new look. Particularly that plump ‘plum’. She blushed and glanced away. She merely ‘liked’ it from a platonic-aesthetic point of view of course.

Hermione pursed her lips together in a little moue as she followed behind Luna into her airy abode. This was no the time to be dazzled by Luna’s looks. Do not be distracted, Hermione. You came here with a purpose. A very important purpose, dammit. She rehearsed her arguments in her head one more time. She shaped her mouth meticulously around each statement and inquiry: Luna mustn’t think her coming here signaled there was any basis for her hurtful proclamations from last meeting. That had to come first. Firm but gentle, because Luna was fragile. It wouldn’t do to be unnecessarily rough with her. She was a friend still. A precious friend. She’d be the bigger person and spare Luna the humiliation of rejection. Besides, she didn’t need any more fuel for her deviant, silly dreams. Therefore there will be no touching today. No casual, uh, caressing. Her dreams were spicy enough already. And it was all Luna’s fault. Hers and Ginny’s. She had a sinking feeling a very randy radish will feature in them in the nights to come. She banished the disturbing image from her mind. Where was she? Ah, yes. No, her argument would go, she merely came to set her straight about her very normative heterosexual predilections and debunk, unequivocally, whatever her outlandish logic latched onto during their last school year to come to the conclusion that she, Hermione J. Granger, was a lesbian. She wasn’t. And soon Luna will have to admit it too. Her ‘proof’, was bound to be ridiculous. And baseless. Completely, totally baseless. Ginny must’ve believed it just because she wished it to be true. Not because it made sense. Therefore, she’ll listen to Luna’s explanations very carefully and when she was done, she’ll laugh them off, to show Luna how ridiculous she thought they were. How she’ll laugh! And once she finished laughing her laugh, she’ll debunk them all methodically one by one. She’ll force Luna to forsake them with her cold, irrefutable logic. Luna could be stubborn but she’ll be adamant. She’ll make her see in the end it was futile. That Hermione simply wasn’t attracted to girls. At last, when that sorry job was done, she would smile at her friend and take her hand and beseech her to return to the way they used to be. Because she missed her two girls. It’s been hard without them this last few weeks. Their get-togethers where she could let go and talk about anything and everything. She didn’t know how much she depended on them until the row. Luna would agree. She, like Hermione, knew the pain of loneliness. She understood the profound meaning of friendship. She’d forget her silly lustful fantasies for its sake. And with Luna’s backing she would convince Ginny to do the same. She’ll make Luna repeat her arguments for Ginny. It would be better coming from her. Hermione nodded to herself. Straightforward, simple and direct. That was how she will handle the young woman. The unsettling dreams would cease after she refuted their source and everything will go back to the way it was. She could meet her two dear friends again just like before. It would be a little stiff at first but they’d get comfortable with each other again after a while. With her two besties returned, she could even mend her relationship with Ron. She was sure of it. This visit was the first step in achieving her plan. It was all going to work out, Hermione. You better believe it!

Luna’s house had no dividing inner walls. She got rid of them the first month she was there. Hermione grinned in remembrance. They’d all pitched in to help her furnish her new home when she bought it. Not just her and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley directed the renovations of the modest kitchenette by the northern wall; Ginny gave her a fancy set of tableware; Harry bought every possible kind of art supplies under the sun for the art studio they set for Luna by the opposite wall; and in the center, around the original fireplace and chimney, was the warm seating area she and Ron created for her with the set of chairs and the sofa they acquired at Crystal Palace. Neville, of course, selected the shrubberies and various flowers for her back garden. They all assisted their friend, Luna, back then.

Hermione stopped in her tracks mid-stride. None of it was there any longer. The place was completely changed. Well, the kitchenette and the studio were still mostly where they had been. But everything else… “I see you decided to, ahhm, redecorate,” she half-asked half stated.

Luna beamed at her and, arms spread wide, twirled round and round. She stopped suddenly. “Do you like the changes?” She asked, all serious.

"Suuure,” Hermione lied. She shouldn’t feel insulted that Luna decided to throw away and completely rearrange all the nice things she, and her friends gave her. It was her house, after all, right? She forced a smile on her lips. She spent a lot of money on those furnitures.

Luna didn’t give her the time to dwell on her rude, ungrateful, unnecessary, imprudent redecorations. She grabbed her hand instead, her periwinkle eyes shining and told her, "Let me show you! It’s been so long since you came. I want to show, everything.” Skipping, almost dancing from one spot to the next, Luna led Hermione about the floor, explaining absentmindedly all the changes she made in the last few months. 

Luna was right, Hermione reflected. It was a long time since she visited Luna’s home. Ginny Luna and her usually met in one of the private rooms of The Enchanted Enchantress Tavern in Oxford. Why didn’t she visit Luna’s home? She visited Ginny’s, well, Harry and Ginny’s home. Always, when she accompanied her after a night of imbibing, she parted with Luna at her changeable front door. She never accepted the other girl’s bidding to enter. Had she known all along what Luna and Ginny longed to do with her if they ever got the chance? Hermione shook her head and focused her attention on what Luna was saying.

"And that was that. Clever, right?”

Hermione blinked and nodded hurriedly. “Yes,” she added, trying to look very clever and knowledgeable.

If Luna noticed the fib she made no sign of it. Rather, that young woman squatted before the kitchen stove and chirruped at its blank blackened door. It rattled back. “I didn’t really know what to do with the kitchen,” Luna explained in a soft voice. “Daddy made the food for us after mom was gone. But when I tried to make it, the food turned out very horrid no matter what I did with it. I tried putting it in the stove. Just like father did. That didn’t go well… cooking is very inexplicable, don’t you think?” She glanced up at her.

"I’m not one to talk,” Hermione muttered, eyeing the stove suspiciously. She was sure it rattled. What a perfect metaphor.

“Still, stoves are useful,” Luna went on in a meditative tone. “When the Fireplace Salamanders needed to move, there was the stove. It all turned out well in the end. They preferred the fireplace as you can imagine, but that nasty brick fireplace just had to go. It attracted the Gloosts[2] and Hobs[3] in droves. They made so much soot. The Enenra[4] in the chimney was no help. I put it in the nice, big iron pot Mrs. Weasley gave me. It’s inside the stove with the salamanders, who are Stove Salamanders now I suppose. Want to peek? I really like it. It’s very distinguished looking.”

“No, no.” Hermione shook her head emphatically and dragged Luna away from the scalding stove. Salamanders! She dearly hoped Luna locked the stove door securely against those dangerous creatures. Should she put a Sealing Rune on the stove door? No. That would be very rude. Luna was a bright witch. She got Os in Care of Magical Creatures. She’ll simply trust she was properly scrupulous in the matter. She wondered idly what sort of imaginary creatures those other two were supposed to be. And the dabberblimps she mentioned earlier for that matter. That one sounded familiar but who knew with Luna. She put it out of her mind. Better not to ask. 

"Oh, very well. Nobody beside me managed to see it yet. Maybe dad will. I’ll invite him over tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to meet a new Enenra. Oh and look what I did with the cold-box. All of dad’s articles, and my letters and keepsakes from everyone, and also my important paintings will stay bright and preserved forever inside it! I added a lot of protective enchantments and magic-imbuing charms to it, to make extra sure. It’s even nargle-proof[5]. Isn’t it neat? Harry thought so too after I showed it to him. Look. He left his old album, the one Hagrid gave him, in here, see? Just until he can convince Ginny to have a Memory Box of their own, of course, but still.” Luna stared raptly at her chilled memorabilia.

"Ginny still lives with Harry?” Hermione blurted at that.

Luna reluctantly closed the cold-box. "Yes.” Luna nodded. She lifted her leg and bent to examine her well-shaped calf. Hermione was about to demand she put down her leg and explain some more when Luna began speaking to her beaded sandal. “You must be careful not to let the Blibbering Humdingers[6] get you. It’s very hard to pull their suckers out once they latch onto your heels. They’ll fill your veins with their blibberdinger. Until you forget everything and turn into another fool dinger.” Luna warned Hermione, or maybe her unwary leg.

"You were saying about Ginny,” Hermione berated her coldly. Luna ignored her. Hermione tapped her foot. To no effect. Sighing, she wondered aloud, “I have to avoid the Blibbering, ehm, Humdingers? Wear thick soled shoes while I’m about?”

"No, no.” Luna shook her head. “That would only make them more eager. Don’t take notice of them. Just ignore them and they won’t be able to harm you. That’s all. It’s not hard. Thick soled shoes aren’t a bad idea, though,” she added after a moment.

"Fine. I’ll ignore the Blibbering Humdingers.” Hermione growled between gritted teeth. Would the young woman beside her never grow out of her make-believe world?

“I offered she move here and live with me,” Luna suddenly blurted. “But Ginny said ‘No.’ She told Harry, ‘Just because we’re not together, doesn’t mean we can’t be together in Godric Hollow. Together, but not ‘together’. Tell me you don’t mind, Harry.’ and Harry said, ‘All right, you can stay here for now. I don’t mind.’ At least, that’s what she told me she told him, and he told her. I’m not sure if he really don’t mind, though,” Luna finished thoughtfully. She straightened up and went on tiptoes to the wall cabinets to the side. Carefully, she put her ear to one.

Hermione kicked the floor. What was Ginny thinking? Harry, don’t mind?? Poor Harry. He was too polite to dump her on the street even after she dumped him. So insensitive. Did the girl have no manners at all? And it wasn’t like it was just for a day or two. It’s been over a month at least since they separated. A month of mooching off poor, hapless Harry. A month during which, come to think of it, Harry never mentioned any of this to her during their occasional office talks. Why didn’t he tell her? She could have been there for him. They could’ve slagged Ginny together, and maybe her annoying brother Ron as well while they were at it. She was his best friend. She should’ve been there with him for that. Did Ron know? He must have told him. He always confided in his best bestie, aka Ron Weasley. But not in Hermione. She kicked the floor, harder. Ron didn’t tell her either when they met. Not that they talked. They shagged, but they hardly talked. Hermione’s train of thought halted mid-chug. Maybe Harry kept mum because he knew Ginny was into her. They still lived together, apparently. Did Ginny confide her ‘feelings’ for her to Harry, the ‘don’t mind’ roommate? Was he giving Ginny a chance with her? Hermione clenched her teeth. How many people exactly heard Luna’s theory? She gave Luna’s back a glare. Mayhap she even growled a bit.

Luna glanced back at her. She wet her lips. "I had to do it. The meeps[7] were rattling about something awful in there. They’re unstoppable once they start breeding.” She turned away. “So what if I broke all those humdingy plates and all those humdingy saucers and their humdingy cups and also the humdi-humdingy teapot. The meeps found them and they were banging on them. Things couldn’t remain as they were. I’m sure I don’t know why you’re so worked up over that china set. You said yourself there were bones in it.” She turned back and sniffed loudly. “They made a lovely sherd maze in the back garden. That’s much more useful. And it made room for the brownie. Ginny was the one who found it, did I tell you? We named it Ron. Isn’t that a laugh?” Luna tried to smile. It petered out. “We can call it Owen, if you prefer. Ron. Owen. Whatever. Maybe it was expensive but it wasn’t doing anyone any good and anyway, only the meeps liked it. So you see,” Luna finished brightly, “the kitchenette turned up well in the end.”

Hermione hummed noncommittally. The posh china set, she recalled, was Ginny’s house-warming gift. She needed to change the subject fast. “And where do you keep the food?” Hermione wondered aloud. She didn’t want to hear what ‘meeps’ were supposed to be.

"What? Oh, it grows. Over there.” Luna pointed at the center of her house, where the fireplace, and sofa and chairs, once stood. In their place, under the big, squarish glass skylight that replaced the old chimney-top, a wild, indoors garden bloomed. There were singing geraniums and insectivorous orchids and blueberries and a medium-sized hopping-pleaches’ tree, among other things. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Trust Luna to come up with such nonsensical ad-hock solutions. Turn her kitchen into a zoo and make every meal a botanical adventure. Pure Lunaism. Silly Luna. Though… she had to admit, there was a lot of charm to the place now. And it worked, somehow, for her. Luna always looked so carefree. She was carefree in her strange, Lunaed-over house. She, at least, never had to slave away in the kitchen, contending with contrarian food for her ungrateful boyfriend. Everything she wanted grew ready-made for her.

"What did you do with the furniture?” Hermione asked with some trepidation. She wouldn’t get mad like Ginny, she promised herself. If Luna threw them away or made a basilisk’s nest out of the sofa, it was her right. Once a gift was given, you had no more rights to it. The indoors garden was charming, maybe even practical. Yes. That was how she’d view it.

"What? Ooh, well.” Luna squared her shoulders. “I didn’t bust them up, Hermione. They’re all right. I haven’t… squandered them.” she glanced away. She smiled brightly at her. “I moved the chairs outside to the back-garden. There’s a table too with them. I found it lying by the bins, a few streets over. I liked its roundness so I… anyway, the sofa, is up there.” She pointed to a section above her front door. Hermione looked up. A bit of the second floor still hung there, bulging from the wall. Nothing connected it to the floor below. It looked like a box. 

"What is that?”

“It’s… an attic? Yes, that’s it. An attic. I put the things I don’t need up there. The old chimney and fireplace grate are up there too. Some other stuff as well. I put the interesting stuff over there.” Luna eagerly led her to the far corner at the South-Eastern end. “I call it the Treasure Corner. What do you think?”

"It’s, great,” Hermione replied. The low-roofed, dim-lit area held a jumble of odds and ends. Broken chair legs, mineral stones, crystals, three boxes of marbles that she could see, prisms, a turtle shell with feathers all about it, match boxes, red roof tiles, women’s shoes, lengths of lace, music boxes and more, much more. The art supplies Harry got her held a place of honor among them. 

"Yes it is!” Luna nodded, bright eyed. “Whenever I want to start something new I come here to find the materials for it and be inspired.”

Hermione glanced back in the direction of the ‘attic’. Should she be insulted Luna didn’t place her sofa with the ‘interesting stuff’ or relieved that it would presumably remain safe and whole up there with the chimney and fireplace grate? Hermione bit her cheek and concentrated on not thinking too hard on that conundrum. She looked to the right. The easel still stood next to the southern window. Harry’s gifts, it seemed, fared very well indeed. “What are you working on now?” Hermione asked her with false cheerfulness, nodding at the easel.

Hmm?” Luna blinked blankly back at her. “You want to look at it?” she went unhurriedly to the easel with Hermione at her heels. 

The picture on the easel was an oil painting in the Naive style. It depicted a dense blackberry bush, its branches heavy with fruit. A vibrant pink, hairy snout protruded from its midst. 

Luna went to the paint-stained wooden table beside it and picked a brush from one of the jars. “It’s ‘A hungry snorkack’,”[0] she explained at length. “It’s not finished. Haven’t touched it in weeks,” she added apologetically. She returned the brush to its jar. Gathering jars and brushes from the table, she carried them to the adjoining sink. She touched the faucet and muttered something softly to it. Water immediately gushed out. They gathered up, and humped into hand-like shapes that went to work on rinsing the jars and brushes.

"What is that?” Hermione cried out in surprise.

"That? Oh, nothing special.” Luna smiled softly. “Just my water elemental. She’s very helpful. She loves cleaning stuff. She does the laundry and the floor as well.” Luna grinned at Hermione. “Bet you’re dying of jealousy, right now.”

"You’re having me on,” Hermione countered. “It’s a charm. It’s got to be.”

"No. I swear. It’s true. She’s a water elemental.” Luna grinned on, completely unfazed.

"For real? How did you manage to tame it?” Hermione couldn’t help blurting. “You didn’t create it, right?” she asked disbelievingly after a second. “You couldn’t have.” Elementals rarely lasted more than a minute or two. Their existence tended to be flashily explosive. Great in combat and not much else. What’s more, it took a lot of magic to craft one. A lot. For Luna to possess a stable elemental, even if it was only a water elemental was nothing short of miraculous. It even did the cleaning for her! 

"No, I didn’t create it. Well, not intentionally, at least. It was my painting. All the jars of magical paint leftovers I poured down the drain made an effect after a while, you see. Though, without the cumulative thwarted creative impulses imbued in them, I doubt anything interesting would’ve bubbled out of the drain.”

Hermione hesitantly approached the marble sink, still half dreading an imminent wet explosion. “It’s iridescent,” she said wonderingly.

"She is.” Luna looked fondly at it. “It’s the paint traces left in her. Esmeralda feeds on the paints. They keep her together, I think. Otherwise she’d explode like other elementals.” She lowered her gaze, bashful. “She doesn’t really do the cleaning for me. Only if there’s spilled paint involved.” Luna confessed.

"So that would make it, fine, her. It would make, her a, what… an Oil Elemental?” Hermione thought aloud. “No, that’s not it. Its, I mean, she, is still mostly water. So, she’s an Oil & Water Elemental.” Hermione concluded enthusiastically. “The first of its kind. Like a living cell. Oily membranes to keep it from disintegrating and magic to animate it. That’s brilliant. This is astounding, Luna. I should doff my witch’s hat to you. You managed change one of the Basic Rules of Magic. You should publish. Your name will be up there with Dumbledore. How often does she need to feed to replenish itself? Oh! Can it wander away from its water-source without dissipating? With its oily protection that shouldn’t be impossible, right?”

"Esmeralda,” Luna rebuked her sounding a bit miffed, “is fond of my water-colors as well. She likes all my colors.”

"Well, the magic component is important as well,” Hermione conceded quickly. “Yes. That must be it. Hey, you know, I bet lots of wizards and witches would love to have a stable elemental of their own. You could make buckets and buckets of galleons in no time. Much more than what you make with your art.”

"I’m not selling Esmeralda. That would be a mean thing to do, selling your house elemental. Esmeralda is my elemental.”

"Sure, sure. But now that you know how to create them, you can craft more. I’m sure whoever bought them will take good care of them.”

"Oh, maybe. Maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it.” She gave Hermione a suspicious look. “Don’t try to study my Esmeralda. I don’t want you to hurt her.”

"I wouldn’t!”

"You might. Accidentally.”

"Fine, fine. But I meant it. With such a cool invention you could be financially secure from now on.”

"You’re sounding just like Ginny,” Luna grumbled.

"What do you mean? Did she want to market your elemental as well?”

"No. She would want to, of course, but Esmeralda didn’t materialize until after she left. Ginny was too stingy with my paints to let her feed properly. She never got the chance to coalesce. It was always ‘Don’t throw stuff away. Paints are expensive. So what if they’re mixed together. Leftovers aren’t garbage. It’s good, useful stuff! We can reuse them.’ All that fuss, and now, look, I poured good paint down the drain and there’s an elemental!”

"Luck!” Hermione whispered in benediction.

"Luck,” Luna echoed her softly. “Maybe.” She smiled, woefully. “Did I tell you? I got a great book from Neville. It’s called, ‘The Hobbit’? Or is it ‘There and Back Again’? Never mind. It’s a book. A lovely book. Did you ever read it? I read it three times already. And you know what? I loved it! I should thank him again for it. You should read it too. It’s very good. Bilbo Baggins. He gets caught up by Adventure that drags him to all sorts of places and, and he also finds this wicked ring, and there are, of course, all these dwarves and, and there’s Gandalf too. He has a magical pipe, that makes fancy smoke rings. Bilbo can too, you know. Make smoke rings. But they’re not as good.” Luna blinked a few times. Her bright eyes found Hermione. Her grin widened. “That is to say, they have a special map in the book. A Treasure Map. And it’s very neat. What’s neat about it is that, you can only see the important markings under special lights and conditions, or during specific seasons and hours. It’s a fabulous idea, don’t you think? I wanted to try it myself right away. It’s my newest project. I’ve been working on it ever since.” Her eyes danced with pleasure. She lifted her head and gazed rapturously at the blank wall behind Hermione.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. It was still a boring expanse of blank wall. "Will you show me this new painting?” Hermione finally asked.

Luna’s eyes focused back on her. She gave her a suspicious look. “You really want to see it? You don’t want to scold me for wasting my effort on another ‘Byzantine house painting’?”

"Is that what Ginny said?” Hermione asked her quietly.

"Yes.”

"I’m sorry, Luna. I’d love to see your new painting. Your paintings are great.”

Luna blinked a few time, her eyes shining from between long eyelashes. She smiled, luminously. “Oh, Hermione. Did you know I missed you terribly?”

Hermione smiled back awkwardly.

“I’d love to show you my painting. Look up, Hermione. Tell me what you see.”

Hermione glanced up. The ceiling was a pastel blue color. A nice color, she supposed. She glanced around uncertainly trying to figure where the painting was. If it was up there, she couldn’t discern it. The only thing that drew her eyes was another disjointed second floor room hanging over the ‘Treasure Corner’. A pale blue lace curtain curtain covered the entrance. She tried to make out what lay inside with small success. Was that Luna’s bedroom? She wet her lips and asked Luna.

Luna gave her a mischievous look. “It is. It’s very cozy. And fluffy. Like the insides of a clam. But not as tight. There’s room enough up there for company. I stay sky-clad when I’m in there. I never did like wearing my jammies. They always bunch up and get in the way. You remember. I haven’t put them on once since I moved in here. It feels wonderful, Hermione.” She hugged herself. Her smile widened. “But. I’m being inconsiderate, aren’t I? You’re not interested in that sort of thing. That’s ‘not how you roll’, right? I remember. So no need to worry. I’ll be a proper little hostess from now on and not say another word on my bed nook. Unless you wish to see it?” She paused, giving her a big-eyed look. “No, of course you wouldn’t. You can put the bedroom out of your mind.” 

Hermione dragged her eyes away from the alluring curtain. Darn. “No! I mean, yes. That is… what about your painting? I can’t see it. Is it charmed invisible or something?” she managed to say. She sounded calm. Collected. Right?

"Is that what Turtle wishes to see? Either is quite easily exposed, if you wish? Is Turtle sure it’s the painting she wants?”

"Yes, I’m sure.” Hermione retorted vehemently. “And stop calling me Turtle!”

“Alright. Sooorrry, Hermione. I won’t tease you,” Luna said lifting her hands in surrender. She didn’t sound all that sorry. “So what do see when you look up there?”

"Just a pale blue ceiling. Same with the walls.”

Luna tilted her head, birdlike. “Hmm. Ah. I see. You wound up your mind too tight again, didn’t you?”

"What? That’s nonsense and you know it, Luna!”

"Oh, Hermione. When will you learn? How many times must I adjure you before you heed my warning? If you keep screwing your mind so tightly, it’ll implode without you even noticing, turning into a bed of antsy Aquavirus Maggots.[8] They’ll all drip out through your nostrils after two months and you’ll never manage to put them back inside after that. You’ll be an airhead. You don’t want that, do you? Let me help you unscrew it a little.”

"You know I don’t believe in your ridiculous aquavirus maggots! If you’d have your way, I’ll turn into an airhead anyway.” That old argument. Hermione clenched her teeth. It was so ludicrous. Why couldn’t Luna see that? She always half suspected her friends came up with it together to screw with her. Ron, really. It was his kind of humor. That letter to the Quibbler must’ve been his doing. He never admitted it though, the ass. He probably thought he was helping her let loose before the NEWTS. But Luna was the perfect patsy. Ron never thought of the consequences. Her credulous friend believed it without a second thought and never forgot about it thereafter. She still brought it up at the most annoying times. And Hermione’s suspicions made her give in to Luna’s needling. Even though there was no reason for her to feel guilty.

Luna ignored her arguments. As usual. She closed her eyes and hummed. “Close your eyes, Hermione. Laa, la-lam. Are Hermione’s eyes closed?” She peaked at her with one eye.

"Yes. They’re closed,” she sighed back, closing her eyes. Might as well get this over with.

“That’s good. Open your mind. Let your ears flutter if they want to. Now say with me ‘I can enter the Secret Garden.’ Are you picturing the lovely Secret Garden?”

"Yes, yes. I’m in the Secret Garden,” Hermione grumbled. This old exercise. She’d rather picture Luna’s secret clam-bedroom if she needed to imagine something.

"You’re seating on wooden bench beneath the flowering rose bushes. Are you picturing it, Hermione?” she asked her suspiciously.

"I’m picturing it,” Hermione repeated, giving in.

“A gentle breeze strokes your cheek. The birds are chirping. The air is heavy with the perfume the roses exude. You like the smell, don’t you?”

“Hmm, yes,” she sighed.

“Suddenly, A hairy snorkack glomps you!”

"Eeek!” Hermione’s eyes tore open. She gave Luna an accusatory glare. 

"Now look up again,” Luna bid her coyly before she could reprimand her.

Hermione shut her mouth and did as bidden. She inhaled noisily in shock. The pale blue ceiling was transformed into a blue blue sky now, with white cumulus clouds floating by here and there. Did Luna replicate the charm on the ceilings of Hogwarts’ Great Hall on her own ceiling? Hermione grinned hugely full of pride at her friend. That was a complicated bit of charm-work. Though she herself deciphered it fully one summer week after there was no more homework to do, Hermione never tried to duplicate this particular charm from her beloved school. The one in Hogwarts was grander, of course. Luna’s house could fit easily inside the Great Hall and still leave room for two of the House tables but Hermione was besotted with this mini-version nonetheless. A flock of green and yellow tropical birds with long-plumed tails flew without a sound over her head and settled atop one of the clouds. Hermione blinked. Her brows knitted. Plumy green bird tails could still be glimpsed. They trailed from the cloud’s rim in a semicircle. What was this? Hermione’s lips bunched in a moue. What new craziness did Luna come up with now? On closer inspection, that cloud wasn’t made of mist. It was an illegible jumble of grey-white words, wadded tightly together. Nearby, one of the other ‘clouds’ reached the ceiling’s edge. It quivered at the impact. Words, like fat flecks of snow, poured out down the adjoining wall in bits and sentences. Hermione swallowed a snort and read them quickly. Like the snowflakes they resembled, they melted quickly away at mid-wall: ‘“Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” –- “All of them at once,”’read one. ‘It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.’ and ‘“May the hair on your toes never fall out!”’ read the next two. Oh, Luna. She didn’t need to catch the last petering sentence: ‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.’ to recognize where all these words originated from. “You turned your inspiration, The Hobbit, into clouds?” she asked Luna, a little scandalized, but mostly admiring.

Luna smiled and glanced left, at the South-Western corner of her house. Hermione followed her gaze. The tidy writing desk and adjoining bookcase were still there. Her eyes didn’t linger on the desk. Luna wrote her quixotic column for the Quibbler on it. She’d thrown the latest issue, unread, into the bin last week. And shredded it. And banished the remains. She wasn’t proud of herself but she was feeling ill at ease and pissed, very pissed! She was within her rights to feel strongly, hum humm, disinclined to read Luna’s column in the aftermath of their last meeting. Luna had a habit of using her menagerie of imaginary beasts to make not so subtle social commentary on those who bothered her. What odd rubbish-creature would she pen around her and her ‘issues’? She simply didn’t want to know.

She didn’t want to think about it. She looked instead at the bookcase. There was something weird going on with it. Hermione tried to figure out what she was seeing. Atop the bookcase lay what looked like a couple of open books. Thick gray fumes rose up from them and spread on the ceiling. “It’s alright,” Luna told her after a moment. “The words scurry back into their books after raining down. They remember their places. Printed words are very disciplined.”

"Oh,” Hermione said. She approached the bookcase. From up close she could see returning words trooping by up the bookcase and cluster around their books, all trying to get back first. Ridiculous. She recognized one of the books as The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll. That one was from her. “Does it mirror the sky like the ceiling of the Great Hall in Hogwarts or, is it just this lightly clouded scene?” She asked at length.

"It follows the outdoors weather, usually. Well, that’s what this layer does.”

"There’s more to it?!”

"Of course. I told you. I made it based on Thorin’s map. It’s got so many layers.” She hugged Hermione suddenly from behind and whispered in her ear “Snorkacks’ galumph!” All around them branches grew up the walls until the house was encased inside a dense thicket with only small patches of sky remaining unobscured here and there. Three pink snouts peaked from one bush momentarily before they were gone again. The shrubbery shook. Near ceiling-height, three great crumpled horns made their way unevenly widdershins. Quicker and quicker they went, shaking fluorescent clouds of pollen from the shrubbery into the dewy air. Each bush gave off its own special hue to the vivacious maelstrom and where the pollen settled in their wake, all sorts of mushrooms sprouted incongruously from the branches. The horns, never stopping, started dipping behind the thick vegetation at odd moments to snatch mushrooms to munch. Despite their apparent size, Hermione never caught a clear view of these elusive creatures. Somehow, they always managed to evade capture, only revealing a snout tip, a thick tongue, a great fleshy tail or a yellow tooth at a time.

Hermione turned to Luna. “You still haven’t found a real, live Crumpled Horn Snorkack in all your searches, have you?”

"Nope.”

"But you’re not giving up, are you?”

"Nope,” the girl replied again, completely unconcerned. "What do you think of it so far?” She gestured about.

"You change between the scenes by giving voice commands?”

"Yes. You need to speak to it for it to react, though. It won’t respond to any background chance word in the room. It responds to many different words, though. It’s not just one or two different layers. Whenever I thought I finished it, another one beckoned my brush. I’m still not done with it. Maybe I never will.” She frowned. “It’s also sensitive to moods, and to lights of course, and the time. And the phases of the moon. And the numerology of the company. The layers can also mix together sometimes. It was a lot of work.”

"It’s very impressive,” Hermione said. “Your best yet,” she added after a moment when Luna wouldn’t smile.

"Ginny said it was a waste. She called it a ‘Stupid White Oliphant’. What is a Stupid White Oliphant? Do you know, Hermione?”

"It’s something not at all important,” she told her frowning. “Forget what Ginny said. I love it.” She captured her eyes with her gaze. Held them. “I love it better than Hogwarts’ Great Hall’s Sky-Ceiling!”

"Do you really?”

"I do,” Hermione said.

"Oh. That’s good.” Luna’s gaze flitted about nervously not looking at her. She took a few steps to the side. “That’s it. I’ve shown you all my house renovations. Do you want to go outside to the back garden? There’s a pond there now. It’s full of singing toads.”

"All right.”

“Wait. Let me give you one of my hopping pleaches. You can finally get to taste them. They’re just ripe right right now.” She grinned and made a face. “Yikes. That was a mouthful.”

They both laughed, the tension broken. “I’d love a hopping pleach,” Hermione told her.

Luna rushed to her indoors garden, rose on tiptoes and hopped twice snagging with each hop a pleach from around the central tree. With a small indrawn breath, she turned away, the pleaches clasped tightly to her chest lest they’d fly back. Her elbow lifted peremptorily and, with a little shiver, Hermione clasped it in her hand. They went together through the open glass doors in the Eastern wall directly opposite the front door to the sunny back garden.

The rose hedge still encircled Luna’s back garden. It was over three meters tall now. There was indeed a pond now, covering almost half of Luna’s back garden on the North-Eastern side. Its green waters were saturated with green algae. Pink waterlilies floated all about, many with fat toads sunning on them. Various bugs were buzzing over it. Luna pointed out a small island thick with vegetation in the middle for Hermione. Hermione told her it was all quite lovely.

With most of the plants Neville gave her moved inside or bunched up on the island, Luna had turned the remaining parts of her back garden into a rock garden. Between the mossy rocks wildflowers flourished, leaving the dirigible plum tree a solitary brobdingnag reigning over the rest of the garden. In the South-Eastern corner, a little labyrinth made of shiny blue-white sherds was set and there, by the Southern hedge and close to the house, was a simple, round wooden table with familiar chairs around it.

Luna led her there and they both sat down. She gave her her pleach. 

Hermione looked at her pleach. Pleaches, she remembered, were a hybrid of peach and lychee. Ginny liked them. She told her they were ‘not too shabby, for fruits.’ Neville was fond of them as well. He called them tropical choco-fruits. Even Harry thought they were neat. She never got to taste them, though. They spoiled very quickly once they grew still and it was too trivial a reason to visit Luna’s home just for that, right? But here it lay in her grasp at last. Would it stand up to its hype? She licked her lips. Would she too turn into a pleachper? She shook her head, all jittery. This was hardly the time. She’d let herself be distracted. Again. She was still dawdling like a lily-livered hufflepuff. She clamped her thighs around the restive fruit and clasped her hands tightly. It was time. Past time. Waiting will only make this more painful than it needed to be. “Luna. There is a reason why I came here.” 

Luna blinked her big, hazel eyes inquisitively at her. “Yes?”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, since we saw each other?” Hermione continued hesitantly.

"I suppose,” Luna tilted her head. “You stayed away because you were nervous. Are you nervous still?”

"I’m not nervous,” Hermione cried out vehemently.

"If you say so,” Luna grinned a little. She looked away. “You were under the sway of the humdingers. You blibbered. I understand.”

"I’m not,” Hermione repeated herself, more quietly, ignoring that latest bit of Luna-twaddle. She took a deep breath “I came to ask you,” She told Luna.

Luna still wouldn’t look at her. “Ask?” she inquired, airily.

"Yes. I mean… I want to know.”

"Do you really? Tell me. What do you want to know?”

"Yes! That is to say, I want, I need… just tell me. What did you two mean last time when you said there were ‘indications’ I was, umm, leaning that way, you know, in our last year at Hogwarts? The whole thing’s ridiculous. I mean, I’m sure you two were just imagining things and that’s why I came over. To clear the whole thing up. Right. So. Tell me. I… I really want to know. Tell me your reasoning.”

Luna took her hand in hers. “Poor, dear Hermione.” She patted her hand fondly and scooched her chair closer. Hermione mumbled something reprimanding and pulled her hand away. “Let me tell you,” Luna whispered gaily in her ear. She leaned back and looked deeply into her eyes. “If you’re ready to hear it this time,” she added meditatively.

“I’m ready,” Hermione said softly. She’d gotten this far. She had to see this through. She had to find out the answer, one way or another. She sat there next to Luna, rigid, hyper-aware of the other girl beside her, clutching the struggling pleach tightly between her thighs. Waiting. She sneaked a glance at the other girl. Luna had such beautiful features. Long, natural blond hair, so soft and smooth. Delicate artist’s hands. Shapely feet. Great legs. Hermione locked her eyes on her own serviceable hands on the table. Hands that embraced Ron. Hands that knew how to squeeze his big, throbbing manhood. Knew how to whip it up. How to milk it dry over and into her. Yes. Those hands straddled hairy, manly, Ron Weasley many a time, many a ways and let him straddle her, crassly, deeply. In a hard, hard-boiled fashion. That’s who she was. 

"Hermione. Did you ever wonder why you didn’t get along with the other girls in your dorm?”

Hermione blinked. She loosened her aching fists. "They were silly girls. All they cared about was doing their make-up and trying on new shoes and dresses and matching them together. They spent hours over it. Every. Single. Day. Primping yourself is important, I’m not saying it’s not, but that’s not the center of my life. They couldn’t accept that about me. And when they weren’t doing that, they’d gossip, and not in a nice way. Bitches, the lot of them. Well, mostly Lavender, but still. They decided I was defective after the first week. Not right, they said.”

"You didn’t click with any of the girls. No girl-clique for Hermione. You preferred the company of boys. Harry and Ron. You were comfortable with them because they got you. Or at least, got you better.”

"What are you trying to say? That I’m a butch?!” she growled angrily. She cleared her throat. She examined herself – hurriedly and surreptitiously. She wasn’t that homely! She could be feminine when she wanted to. Just because appearance was not all she cared about, didn’t mean she was, that! She’d spent a whole hour choosing her outfit today before coming here. She spent more time on it, in fact, than on her outfit for her latest meeting with her husband. Dammit! That didn’t mean anything, though. It was completely natural when comparing meetings at friend’s house to one at husband’s sports-tent. Yes. Who dressed up for sports-tent meetings?! That was it. Her logic has not failed her yet. She inflated her chest with a bracing breath then let it droop hurriedly on second thought. She clenched her elbows. This was no time to let her insecurities rule her. She was the cleverest witch of her age. And she wasn’t homely, dammit! She metamorphosed out of her Eager-Beaver chrysalis years ago. She’d counter-argue her way to victory yet. “What about you? Or Ginny for that matter? I’m friends with you, aren’t I? And, and, there are other girls I’m on friendly terms with.”

"Oh, Hermione. Don’t get mad. I think you’re very handsome.” Luna sighed. “I’m not trying to insult you. Hardly that! You shouldn’t think a thing like that. Don’t call on the wrackspurts[9], Hermione. Here. Take this.” She took off her necklace and proffered it to Hermione. Hermione accepted it reluctantly. Was Luna telling her she was close-minded? She laid the ‘plum’ on the table before her and covered it with her hands. She traced the engraved clasped hands with her thumb and took long, calming breaths. She was doing this all wrong. She’d hear Luna out and not get mad. That was her whole reason for being here after all. Her peace of mind required it. Her relationship with her boyfriend necessitated it. Her continued friendships with her two best girl friends demanded it. She’d missed them these last few weeks despite her anger and her hurt at their machinations, she admitted to herself. If she hadn’t left in a huff last time, she wouldn’t need to endure this. So this time, she would do it right. She wouldn’t run prematurely. She’ll be calm and composed, Logical. Firm. Unshakable. Like a rock, that lets whatever phantasms Luna throws her way slough off without effect. That was how she’ll be. And in the end, she’d receive the reward that awaited her: dream-free slumber and the love of her dear boyfriend, Ron. Yes.

Luna smiled uncertainly at her. “You alright? Keeping the wrackspurts and the blibbering humdingers at bay? Good. Good good good. We’ll talk about something else, alright Hermione? You asked what gave you away our last year in Hogwarts. So. Lets talk about that. You returned to Hogwarts after The War to get your N.E.W.T.s, but Harry and Ron didn’t accompany you. For the first time in eight years the three of you weren’t joined at the hip. You three were no longer a runespoor. You didn’t mind much. You were relieved to get a breather from Ron and his histrionics.” She laughed softly. “You kept saying that to us for the first month, remember? No more meeps at every turn for you. And thus, Ginny and I became your closest friends that year. We made a new synergy. A more convivial kind of runespoor. Ginny was the steady, the realistic one between us three. You were the go-getter, the pusher and I–”

"Was the dreamer.” Hermione finished for her.

"I suppose. ‘Everyone else in school was-’”

"Smooching!” they shrieked in unison, the memory of those happy days still fresh on their lips. “But not we three.”

"Yes,” Luna continued. “We carefree three did not care much for boys back then. Sure, sure, Hermione, we discussed them from time to time, in passing, but it was just that. Our hearts didn’t leap and patter for our distant plimpies[10]. You were glad to be apart from your ‘darling’ Ron. I was already growing apart from hero Neville and even Ginny preferred our company over Harry’s. We sufficed, like one of your balanced equations. We were a Three, the best of Magical Numbers.”

"We were friends. Great friends, but that’s all.” Hermione obstinately countered. “Nothing untoward ever happened between us.”

"Really, Hermione? How can you say that with a straight face? Tell me you didn’t forget what occurred when we cast the Red String Divination?”

"You know I don’t believe in Divination. We laughed it off. Remember?”

"You and Ginny would both run away screaming any time I floated a red string your way.”

“We did not! We just-”

"Didn’t want to get entangled in string?”

"Something like that. Anyway it doesn’t prove anything. If that’s all you got--”

"No, no. I just wanted us to remember it. It was hilarious. At least I think so.”

"Humph!”

"We did a lot of naughty things that year, didn’t we, Hermione?”

"I don’t think so.”

"You don’t? How about your sudden fascination with Celtish rites?” 

"That’s… that doesn’t count! Anyway, we did that for Ginny.”

"Because she’s a red-head, right? We’d go nightly out the Castle gates, leaving all our cumbersome clothes behind. We did so very many rituals, all sky-clad. We all became deft hands with warming charms. And tickling charms.” She giggled.

Her face flushed. She felt it down to her chest. "Magical imposition of those rituals! Being, sky-clad was just a requirement. Nothing more. For Ginny’s sake.” She excused it all.

"Oh, Hermione. And what about the nude modeling sessions you and Ginny gave me? That was your idea as well.”

"To further your artistic education. Nothing more!” She shook her blouse-front to cool herself down. That was all it was. It was! She had to find a counterargument. Quickly. “But, what about Neville? We had him pose in the nude for you as well.” There. Let her dismiss this argument.

"That was only three times, Hermione. You and Ginny ‘posed’ for me so many times.”

"Ss, ssso what! Doing magic in the nude and getting disrobed for your art’s sake doesn’t mean there was any sssexual attraction. It doesn’t! It just, it just means, we’re three very good friends who are comfortable with each other.”

Luna just stared at her silently for a while. Hermione tried not to fidget. Luna took a bite from her pleach. She licked her lips. Hermione bit on her knuckle. She was good. She wasn’t feeling anything untoward. Not at all. Feeling self conscious, she mirrored her and extracted her own pleach from between her soppy thighs and took a big bite herself. It was sweet and delicate and springy. A bit like a pineapple. She did like it, she decided.

“And what about the snogging?” Luna suddenly broke in. “You remember our snogging sessions, don’t you Hermione?”

Hermione swallowed her bite convulsively. “Those things? Fun and games. We were pretending. That’s all. So we had a few spoof-snogs between us. So what? It was. All. A. Joke! To take the Mickey out of all the stupid flagrant face-munchers around us. They were making out, everywhere! Remember? Like Romilda Vane and bloody Cormac McLaggen. Ugh! I feel ill just talking about those two. So gross. We had to make fun of them. For our peace of mind, Luna. And, and the other times were practicing. For when we’d snog our boys. Me for Ron and Ginny for Harry and you, em…”

"Who, Neville? Yes. Of course. I was kissing you and Ginny for Neville’s sake. Oh, Hermione. You can’t believe that was all it was. You can’t! I know you felt something back then. Stop pretending to yourself. Please.” Hermione sat frozen in her seat. It was working. Her plan was working. Finally. Luna would admit she was right and she was mistaken any moment now. Her perseverance and cold logic were paying off. As she knew it would. She took another bite from her fruit. It tasted like victory, right? Then why did she feel so rotten? 

Eyes shining, Luna suddenly threw her half eaten pleach away angrily. She breathed heavily “Then tell me this, Hermione. Why wouldn’t we let Neville, or Owen from Hufflepuff help us with our snogging routines? We could’ve used them. No complications or, or clinginess with those two, right? And they were actual boys. Much better practice material than another girl, don’t cha’ think?”

"I, I. That would be cheating on Ron!”

"He’d never know. Doubt he'd even care.”

"Well, I would know. So I couldn’t do that.”

"No. Give the real reason. Say it!”

"That was the real reason. It’s a perfectly good reason.”

"It’s hollow like a hollow willow. And it stinks!”

"I, I. Why are you making this so complicated? This is all… ancient history. It doesn’t matter. Forget-”

"No! Answer my question, Hermione. Why not Neville or Owen?”

"This is ridiculous. I don’t have to answer that. I don’t want to.”

"Yes. You. Do! Say it. Why not Neville or Owen?”

“Because I didn’t want to snog Neville! Or Owen! There. Happy?”

"You wanted to snog me. And Ginny.”

"…”

"It’s alright, Hermione.” She took her hand again. Hermione let her. She was smiling reassuringly at her. It was such a reassuring smile. “You miss that time, don’t you?”

Hermione looked down at their joined hands. "Maybe,” she mumbled.

"Just maybe?”

"Alright. Yes. I miss it.” She nibbled on her pleach. It was starting to sag down. It tasted of liquor now. Like it was soaked in brandy. “I miss it a lot.”

Luna took her hand in hers and began sucking her fingers clean of the juices. Of its own accord, Hermione’s other hand rose to caress Luna’s cheek. Without her noticing it, they both leaned forth and suddenly they were kissing. It’s been so long. So very long. Luna’s lips were so delicate and soft. So smooth. Not a hint of stubble. They tasted sweet, and heady, dripping from the juices of pleaches. They were without a doubt, so much better than R– Hermione didn’t finish that thought. She pulled Luna to her chair, toppling the other chair and the table in the process. Luna didn’t resist. She straddled her eagerly, never breaking their kiss. She snuggled close and sucked on her upper lip, wrenching a long moan from Hermione. Hermione wouldn’t be outdone and thrust her tongue deep within Luna’s mouth. Luna’s little tongue-tip caressed the underside of her tongue. Hermione’s hands squeezed Luna to her crushingly. Luna groaned and thrust her arms between them. Hermione let up immediately and stroked her back reassuringly. She’d never hurt her Luna. Her sweet, kissing-mate from so long ago. She let her fingers play with Luna’s soft hair, just enjoying their wondrous kiss for the moment. Luna growled and leaned into her. She was no skittish virgin. Of course she wasn’t! Her clever fingers soon set to unbutton Hermione’ blouse. Hermione breathed deeply, making the other girl’s task more difficult. Luna didn’t desist. Sucking on her captive lip domineeringly, she thrust her blouse open and with one decisive yank, pulled down her bra and freed Hermione’s ample breasts from her taut bra. Her big tits jumped out of their uncomfortable binding, flushed and hard and demanding. Luna’s wonderful fingers grasped them both and stroked them beautifully. Eagerly. Artfully. Hermione sucked on Luna’s tongue. Hard. Trying to give back some of the pleasure. Luna’s fingers were so good. So exquisite. So much better than Ron’s ham-fingers! There was no compare. Not at all. She felt a flush spreading from her areolas under those wonderful fingers’ ministrations. Wider and wider it spread, red-hued and overpowering, like ripples on the simmering pond of her body, down her quivering stomach to her hungry core and up her neck to light up her lips and cheeks. Luna teased her nipples with her knowing thumbs, delicately, delicately. Her panties became soggy all of a sudden. She was burning up. She was on fire! She sucked on Luna’s mouth desperately, ravenously, time without end. She shuddered through and through. She was done for. She hugged her to her with all her might trying not to sob.

Slowly, carefully, Luna let her wind down. With sweet butterfly kisses on her burning lips, she let her collect herself. Hermione’s head nestled, all heavy, on Luna’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she mumbled at last.

"My pleasure,” Luna breathed back. She pecked her warmly on the ear.

"I, I, don’t know what-”

"Shh, shh,” Luna whispered into her ear. 

Hermione lifted her head. Their eyes met. They were both smiling. Softly. Contentedly. “I love you,” Hermione suddenly blurted.

"And I love you.” Luna returned, all calm, matter of factly.

"I’ve been such a fool, haven’t I?”

"You have,” Luna concurred, still smiling.

Hermione frowned. “But what about Ron? And Ginny?” she added after a moment.

Luna’s smile slipped. “You don’t want to return to Ron, do you?”

"No. Heavens forbid.” She shook her head. “But we are in a relationship. And I just… cheated on him.” Her voice quavered on that last bit.

"Break it up with him. Send him an owl. Not like it’s much of a relationship.” Luna responded, uncaring.

"That’s no true. We’ve been going steady for almost a year.”

"You don’t live together. From what you told us, you don’t talk much either. You’re fuck-buddies.”

"We’re not fuck-buddies.”

"You are. Been for some time. Stop pretending.”

"That’s not a nice thing to say. In fact, pretty mean of you, Luna.”

"But true.”

"Is not.”

"Is too.”

"Oh, you’re impossible!” Hermione pushed her off her and stood up. The table stood on its side and Luna’s chair had tumbled down as well. They’d been pretty frisky, haven’t they? She swallowed the smirk struggling to take over her traitorous features. This was serious. What was she going to do? She was a rotten cheater now. She was, she was, a slag! Hermione mouthed the ugly word silently. She couldn’t believe herself. Though, they didn’t go all the way. Only, what was it, second base? No. That shouldn’t matter in her books. She was a horrid cheating girlfriend now and there was nothing she could do about it. She needed to go to Ron and apologize to him. She needed… to make it up to him? She didn’t want to make it up to him. She really didn’t. But he’d demand it. To prove her sincerity to him. ‘Do it like you mean it,’ he’d say, grinning a hard, stubly grin at her. ‘Then, maybe, I’d forgive you.’ She felt dirty just picturing it. She wanted… she wanted to forget all about Ron, to discard her obligations to him. She wished she could just flutter up, up and away with Luna. Her puckish, smoking-hot Luna. They’d secret themselves away in her shiny, clam bed-nook and she’d let her have her wicked, pleasurable way with her. Why did she have to go back to Ron? It was stupid. Besides, if she did it with Ron, it would make her a double-cheater! Oh, what was she going to do? Luna wasn’t making things easy for her. She wasn’t pacing around with her. She didn’t even have the courtesy to look worried. She had her hand on her mouth looking for all the world like she could barely hold in a laugh! Hermione glared back. To little effect. She watched silently as the other girl picked a clear spot of ground, cleaned it with a wave of her wand and sat down.

"What’s so funny?” she finally demanded.

Luna’s eyes danced over her. “I really like your chest.” she told her coyly.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Her hands flew to her chest. It was true! In all the excitement she forgot to redo her blouse. She’d been parading all this times with her tits on display like some, shameless, ugh! She just knew she was blushing something awful. She hated her body for being so revealing. She whirled away, ignoring her laughing friend and tried to pull her bra back up. With small success. Oh, if only the ground could swallow her up and her hide her shame!

"Hey. Don’t hide. Come back, please, Hermione. I want to see,” Luna whined from her spot.

It wasn’t working. The bra wasn’t cooperating. She’ll need to undo her bra to put it back on properly. For that to work, though, it’d be so much easier if she could take off her half opened blouse beforehand. Blushing even a deeper shade, Hermione gave up and just rebuttoned her blouse. She’d take care of the bra when she got home. In her haste she did closed her blouse all crookedly.

"Oh,” Luna opined her disappointment when she saw what she did. “Seat by me?” she offered.

"I shouldn’t. I have to deal with Ron. He’ll be busy now but I could wait for him in his tent-”

With a sigh, Luna brandished her wand once more. She pointed it at her and gestured. Hermione found herself stumbling, forward, forward and down, straight into Luna’s open arms. The little imp giggled! She set her wand aside, not even bothering to apologize. “Oh, Hermione. Here. Let me help,” she offered. She swiftly undid her uneven buttoning. Leaning beneath her armpit, she freed her bra’s clasp. With quick, efficient motions, she redid her bra and rebuttoned her blouse closed. Before she knew it, Hermione found herself all propered up. She could leave right now for Ron if she wished.

"Thank you,” she mumbled.

"No problem,” Luna breathed into her ear. She leaned back slightly.

Hermione stared into Luna’s bright, hopeful eyes. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to her kissable, puffy lips. She wet her lips. “I-”

"Want to kiss?”

"Gods, yes!”

"You don’t have to ask me twice.” Luna captured her mouth with a searing kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other and drew them together. They grappled for an endless moment, rolling around on the soft ground. Hermione pulled Luna’s dress, pulling big fistfuls of it from behind, up the small of her back. Up and up, over her waist and over her stomach Up past her heaving chest. Luna pristine chest was revealed to her in all its glory. She had no bra on beneath her simple sun-dress. Hermione sucked a heaving breath and yanked the airy sky-hued dress off and flung it away. Luna stared up at her, eyes full of mischief, from the ground. She had nothing on now but bright yellow undies and she wasn’t ashamed to show her goodies. Not at all. Hermione leaned down and sucked on the throbbing pulse point in her neck. Luna arched up, begging for more. Her legs locked around Hermione’s waist and her fingers buried themselves in Hermione’s messy mane. “Don’t stop,” she called, gaily. She pushed Hermione’s head down on her chest, inflating it proudly to get her tits the attention they deserved. Hermione didn’t back down. She attacked the eager little attention-seekers with laving tongue and eager lips, sucking one pink nipple and then the other, urging them to stand out for her. And they did. Luna moaned into her hair. With trembling fingers she stroked Hermione’s head. Grasping her by the ears she pulled her back for a thankful, hungry kiss. Their tongues did battle in their mouths. With a gasp, Luna began raining kisses all over Hermione’s flushed face. She bequeathed her kisses on Hermione’s rosy cheeks and on her glistening brow. Her hands went sliding, down her back, to her waistline and up, beneath her blouse. They explored her flesh, reverently, tracing circles along her muscles, gliding along her sensitive spine. Hermione wished to give back some of the pleasure. She tried to kiss her back some, but Luna puffed a breath into her sensitive ear and pinched her in the butt. Hermione squealed. Luna laughed and stroked her offended butt. She kissed her some more on the lips. Between kisses, she breathed “Let me. Do this. For you, Hermione.”

They were lying on their sides, facing each other, now. Leisurely, confidently, Luna’s fingers trailed over her, meeting finally at her waist, and unbuckled her slim belt. One by one, the little buttons holding her pants shut came undone under her tending hands. Luna smiled wickedly at her. “Shall I?” she wondered idly, pausing her kisses for a moment. Hermione couldn’t utter a peep. She spread her hips in invitation, lifting one thigh in the air. “I think I shall,” Luna answered her own question. With one hand for support at the small of her back, Luna’s other hand rubbed its way down from her bellybutton, between the open flaps of her undone pants and into Hermione’s pink panties. Hermione inhaled stentoriously through her nose, eyes opening almost as wide as Luna’s orbs. Luna nipped her bottom lip teasingly and closed her intrepid quintet around Hermione’s womanhood. Hermione could tell from the start: those five were expert, knowledgeable fingers. They’ve done this all before and learned their skills well. Her middle finger teased its way with a bit of a tickle into the crack between her well-trimmed labia. Her second and fourth soon joined the fray, stroking her labia, spreading the slick dampness all over them and stretching them wide. Hermione bit her lip in anticipation. Her middle finger ventured forth and in. Hermione almost forgot to breathe. The pressure her tight panties put on Luna’s busy hand made the sensations all the tenser. Into her dripping wet vagina, Luna’s temerarious finger entered. Not to be left out, her thumb found her quivering clit and played with it mercilessly. Oh, how she stroked her. She kneaded her mons with the root of her hand. She spread her wide. She teased. She squeezed. Oh Gods, how divinely she squeezed. Her thumb and middle finger clinched her needing flesh between them from within and without and rolled it mercilessly between them. She played her, Hermione realized on some disconnected level between her groans and breathy moans, like an accordion. She was a Mozart. A virtuoso Liszt! Hermione arched up into her touch. She was quivering from her head to her very toe-tips. Luna knew stuff. Hermione bit on her lip, hard, to contain it all. She couldn’t let it end like this. She couldn’t be completely useless. Resolute, she found the strength to lift her knee. She pushed it between Luna’s slim legs and up against her delicate undies. Yes! Luna gave a glad cry and rubbed herself against it. Hermione pushed back some more. Was it damp? It was, wasn’t it?! Hermione groaned her satisfaction. The other girl wouldn’t stop her ministrations in her panties though. To the contrary, she only went at it with greater zeal and enthusiasm. Her godly fingers were unflagging. She was… she was coming undone. She couldn’t control herself. She couldn’t hold on for a moment longer. She didn’t mind now. She did her part. She let herself, willingly, nay, eagerly, be pushed to the precipice and beyond. She clenched around Luna’s finger. She sobbed at the strength of her release. She hugged Luna to her with trembling arms.

With one last, slow squeeze, Luna retrieved her glistening hand from Hermione’s pants. Leisurely then, she began lapping the juices off her wondrous hand. Hermione felt like she was lapping her, down there. The aftershocks still went shuddering through her. She’d never felt anything like this before.

Finished at last with her cat-like hand-grooming, Luna kissed Hermione smilingly on the nose. “I missed you,” she told her a bit sadly. Hermione was too drained to reply. She just nodded and held onto Luna’s hand with hers. Luna on the other hand looked ready to burst with mirth and gladness and sheer energy. Their carnal exercises seemed to have done her a world of good. Uncaring of Hermione’s state, she pulled her up after her and dragged her with many an eager pull to the side of the house, only pausing on the way to pick up her wand and necklace. There, a little to the side from the big glass doors was a rope ladder leading to an upper-story window. Her bedroom window, she cleverly deduced. “Up you go,” Luna ordered her, pushing on her butt to get her climbing. Was this the right thing to do? It really wasn’t, was it? Oh, who cares! She climbed up the ladder with Luna following close behind. She was staying the night and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luna's creatures aren't just a random collection of odd phantasms. Each represents something significant for Luna. Here's an explanatory list of the creatures appearing in this chapter:
> 
> [0] Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – (Super Canonical) Mythical beast. In my version it represents the wondrous and the mysterious that can never be fully grasped or conquered.  
> [1] Dabberblimps - (Canonical: Possibly underwater creatures.) In my version they’re rainbow-hued, floating blimp-like creatures that hover around the mad and the artistic.  
> [2] Gloosts - (Original) Creatures of gloominess.  
> [3] Hobs - i.e. Hobgoblins.  
> [4] Enenra - An Enenra (lit. "lightweight-fabric smoke"), sometimes enraenra, is a yōkai, or Japanese monster, that is composed of smoke. It was first featured in the Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, ca. 1781. It resides in bonfires and when it emerges, it takes the form of a human. It is said that an enenra can only be seen by the pure of heart. The name draws a comparison between the enenra and the lofty characteristics of lightweight cloth.  
> [5] Nargles - (Super Canonical) Mischievous thieves. Turned away with dirigible plums. (Shame on you if you didn't know this already!)  
> [6] Blibbering Hamdingers - (Canonical though almost nothing is said about them there.) In my version they're leechlike creatures who represent gossiping blabbermouths. Consensus-fools who spout their consensus-nonsense. While crafty and ravenous in their hungry stage, fully grown they turn rotund and blah.  
> [7] Meeps - (Original) Little furballs. Drawn to homes filled with shouting and fighting. Populate wide reaches of the known galaxy.  
> [8] Aquavirus Maggots - (Canonical: brainlike creatures like the brains in a jar in the DoM.)  
> [9] Wrackspurts - (Canonical) See first chapter notes.  
> [10] Gulping Plimpies – (Canonical: Walking fish. Warded off by Gurdyroot (A Green onion you can make a bogey-tasting infusion from to ward off evil.)) In my version signifies sexual urges and sexual deviancy. 
> 
> Also, here's a [map of Luna's house](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/corkyball/9471508/1868/1868_900.jpg)


End file.
